


5 Times Fat Amy Saw Something She Bloody Well Shouldn't

by taichou



Category: Pitch Perfect (2012)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Mentions of Sex, Pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 20:50:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichou/pseuds/taichou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barden University is a long way from home, but Amy is always up for an adventure. Anything to get away from dreary old Tasmania (and her equally bogan first name, Patricia). In fact, anything to get away from Australia. Let's be honest, the amount of talent in her is obviously too much for her fellow Aussies to handle. There is only one place to go if Amy wants to be recognised by the world. And so, here she is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Times Fat Amy Saw Something She Bloody Well Shouldn't

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raccoontitties](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raccoontitties/gifts).



> Many thanks to Brittany, for her constant encouragement, beta-ing skills and relentless harassment to ensure I finish this. You can blame her for the entire Amy/Bumper section.
> 
> Standard disclaimer applies.  
> Also, I have sort of adopted the fundraising ideas from [(Fund) Raising Hell by novel_concept26](http://archiveofourown.org/works/563177) as my headcanons so references to that have been made in this fic.

Five times Fat Amy saw something she bloody well shouldn't.

And one time that the Bellas caught her instead. 

* * *

 

Barden University is a long way from home, but Amy is always up for an adventure. Anything to get away from dreary old Tasmania (and her equally bogan first name, Patricia). In fact, anything to get away from Australia. Let's be honest, the amount of talent in her is obviously too much for her fellow Aussies to handle. There is only one place to go if Amy wants to be recognised by the world. And so, here she is.

When that alt chick with all those piercings and secrets asked her what she’s looking for here, halfway across the world, she looked her deep in the eyes. "You ever heard of walkabout?"

The gloomy teen (who introduced herself as Beca, just to stop Amy from calling her Daria) is predictably confused. Poor uncultured child. "Walk...about?"

"Yeah. It's a journey of self-discovery." Amy nods sagely. It would do Beca a lot of good to experience one herself. What with all that sadness and anger in the thick lines she draws around her eyes. "I've already walked through the entire Tasmanian bush _and_ climbed that red rock in the middle of nowhere. So, really, there's nothing left for Australia to offer me."

Beca still doesn't get it. Her lips quirking up in that same half smirk she gave Amy at the Deaf Jews' table. She seems to always do that instead of asking people to explain. So Amy just sighs. An unwilling disciple will always be the last to understand. "You wouldn't get it until you've done it yourself. Actually... You know what? I'll volunteer as your spirit guide."

"What?"

"So, you know, holler cooee whenever you're ready." Amy walks off with a hearty wave. Imagine that. Leading a journey of self-discovery. How sick is that? 

* * *

 

I.

Well. So much for a journey of self-discovery. _This_ is more like, solely... Discovery. Of something that really has nothing to do with Amy. _Zilch_. It could have been great blackmail material but with how carefree Chloe naturally is and how murderously Aubrey is looking at her right now... Let's just say Amy values her vocal chords very, very highly.

Amy swears it was a total accident. Seriously, who in their right mind would want to walk in on that? Even if one is the hottest ginger Amy has ever met, and the other’s classic American beauty sends as much chills down her spine as her glares. (Hey, Amy may not be gay but she knows how to appreciate hot pieces of arse when she sees them. Come on.).

Yeah, no.

But the gym? Who knew Aubrey is a risk taker?

It’s right after their disastrous performance (or the biggest shit show Amy ever participated in since her high school’s attempt at _Moulin Rouge!_ ) at that fratboy mixer. Gosh, Amy has never felt this humiliated. There’s no way she can score any of those SBT blokes now. Meh. That’s totally ok. Most of their faces would only make _her_ beer taste bad.

Anyway, Amy is dropping by the gym to pick up the philosophy textbook she left behind that morning after rehearsals when she swears she could hear someone practising their scales. Judging by what happened at that stupid mixer, yeah, they need all the practice they can get. Amy is planning to pick up her book as quietly as she can and leave unnoticed. Give the poor girl some privacy and all that. She totally gets it. After all, she did pitch slap someone who broke her concentration that one time.

But the gym is...empty.

Then she hears it. A long sustained note of G sharp. Amy’s eyes widen. All the Bellas can recognise that voice anywhere (and probably hear it in their nightmares too) and she _knows_ this is definitely not her usual vocal warm-ups.

Aca- _awkward..._

She finds them up against the wall, behind the cover of the two ginormous white boards. Limbs tangled and their Bellas uniforms all uncharacteristically messy and scrunched up. Aubrey’s tight bun has come apart, letting her silky gold hair flow free. This is the first time Amy has seen Aubrey’s hair down since aca-initiations night.

“Orgasms are a great way to deal with pressure,” slips out of her mouth before she can stop herself.

The two girls gasp and spin around to face her.

Amy tries not to notice Chloe’s tear stained face and the heartbreaking look in Aubrey’s eyes before it disappears into panic.

“I always need a bit of action down under before a performance, you know. No big.” Amy quickly adds to ward off the deafening silence that settles over the three. “That’s how those pro bitches, like Beyoncé, do it. It’s totally standard industry practice.” She shrugs.

Aubrey’s back has gone ram rod straight. Her eyes wild, reminding Amy of the little Tassie devil she came across in the woods beyond her uncle’s station. She remembers how skittish the little fighter was; half a wrong move and you might lose a limb.

She smiles, as placating as she can, “...At least we know Chloe doesn’t have herpes...?”

Wrong move.

Amy is so, so close to losing her vocal chords for real. Aubrey’s sudden lunge for her neck might have hit the mark if Chloe hasn’t wrapped her arms around her waist fast enough. Amy stands as still as she can; watching on as Chloe whispers something that magically relaxes Aubrey. Well, relaxes her enough to grant Amy some tiny bit of breathing space.

“Amy,” Aubrey breathes out. Somehow, Amy finds this a hell lot more scarier than when Aubrey is screaming at them during Bella practice.

“Yes, Captain?” She stands at attention, hands behind her back.

Aubrey runs her hand through her mussed hair, “If you even dare to breathe a word of what you saw today, I will-”

“Personally rip out my vocal chords. Yeah, I know.”

“Actually, I was going to say-” Aubrey is cut off when Chloe pinches her side and whispers something suspiciously like _Play nice_ or _Be nice_. Amy wouldn’t know because she is definitely not the best lip reader in Tasmania. Aubrey merely swallows whatever she wanted to say and gives Amy a curt nod instead.

Taking that as her cue to leave, Amy stammers a lame goodbye and almost runs out of the gym. But not before hearing Chloe’s huskier than normal, sadder than normal voice calling out a soft, “Thanks, Amy.”

She dares to throw a quick glance back. And sorta wished she hadn’t. Aubrey has turned back towards Chloe, who’s back to hiding in her embrace. But Amy could still see Aubrey's distraught face. Never has she ever seen Aubrey this worried. Not even before that last performance when she was well aware how absolutely not performance ready the Bellas were. Even though Amy knows what nodes are, she really has no clue what having nodes would _mean_. She used to think Aubrey was some crazy, heartless dictator (ok, fine, she still thinks this). But cutting her some slack wouldn’t hurt, right? The least Amy could do today is to give both girls a really big hug. But unfortunately, Amy cares too much about her life to run back and tackle glomp them.

* * *

II.

The second time Amy discovered something about her teammates was a few nights after their second placing at the regional competition (which she is wholeheartedly taking credit for. Clearly the world wants Fat Amy). This time, she’s blaming her boy toy of the week. She can’t even remember his name but he’s a Japanese breakdancer. His abs alone are enough to convince her to take him out for a test drive. Or, in this case, convince her to tag along with him to an “exclusive” party hidden away in the darkest and weirdest part of campus.

Apparently, it used to be a warehouse-like storage place for all the outdated equipment. Now, it’s... a really cool student-run nightclub thingy. Whatever, there’s free booze and no one checks ID. What really sucks about being in America is that she can’t drink yet. Back home, she’d be knocking back cans of VB and watching cricket like it’s no big deal. At least here, she’s got older boy toys to score her any alcohol she wants so.

Dancing the night away makes her thirsty and Amy has loaded herself with way too much beer. Since this bloody club is a warehouse, she needs to go outside to find the nearest loo. There is this block of restrooms somewhere up the hill, near the baseball field, but alcohol usually screws with her sense of direction. She figures she must have taken the wrong turn because the room she walked into looks _nothing_ like the bathrooms.

To be honest, it looks like an opium den.

It might even _be_ an opium den.

“Sorry, fellas, you have a bathroom I can borrow? No?” Amy backs out slowly when the big burly tattooed guys just keep glaring at her. “Uhh.... sorry to bother you, have a good night!” She turns and runs towards the exit - only to bump into someone who normally freaks her out. But right now, she’s really glad to see a familiar face.

“Lilly! Thank god you’re here!” She would hug her but Amy’s not sure if Lilly’s hiding a knife so.... better not.

Lilly’s lips move but Amy can’t hear a word she’s saying. “What?”

“I said, do you want a tattoo?” Lilly huffs out, slightly more audibly.

“I...uh... a tattoo?”

“That’s why you’re here, right?” Lilly’s wide unblinking eyes are starting to creep Amy out. And she’s not letting her pass.

Amy settles on, “Yeah, sure.” Getting a tattoo is on her bucket list. Might as well get it now.

Apparently the not-loo place she stumbled into is an...um, illegal tattoo parlour. And she needs to stop being surprised by Lilly’s array of questionable skills. Lilly knows how to operate the tattoo machine and the traditional Japanese hand tattooing method (or so she says). Just to be safe, Amy declines Lilly’s offer to give her an authentic Japanese tattoo.

“I said, what design do you want?” Lilly rolls her eyes at Amy’s confused look. Oh right, she is actually speaking to her right now.

“Can I get a Curly Rainbow Snake on my back?” Amy turns around and lifts up her shirt.

“You want a curly _what_?”

“A Curly Rainbow Snake,” Amy grins at Lilly over her shoulder, “An aboriginal elder told me that my guardian spirit is the Curly Rainbow Snake. It's like the Rainbow Snake, but epically wasted.”

Amy has to draw a picture for Lilly to finally understand her request. She hopes Lilly does get her shit drawing. But honestly, who hasn’t heard of the Curly Rainbow Snake?

The tattoo turns out to be pretty awesome. Surprisingly, Lilly likes to chat while she does her tattooing but Amy can’t really pick up anything over the soft buzzing of the tattoo gun. All she could piece together is that Lilly loves art and pain, becoming a tattoo artist seems like the most logical thing.

Amy suspects Lilly has one of those full back and sleeve tattoos. But she’ll never know, thanks to Chloe. Thanks to Chloe agreeing with Lilly that they should be selling singing telegrams instead of doing bikini car washes. Oh c'mon, she brought her best pair of bikinis and now she can't even show it off. Shame, she's super good at car washes too.

At least, if Lilly ever turns out to be the next successor to some yakuza gang, then hopefully this crazy tattooing experience would be enough to convince her that they’re sorta mates. So in case Lilly ever decides to take over the world, Amy would be on the safer side.

* * *

III.

So. The good news is, thanks to that footloose jailbait, the Bellas are back in the comp. The better news is that Aubrey has finally loosened the reins (and her gag reflex) and now they’re finally getting somewhere. The best news is that after Beca’s little team bonding exercise, the Bella chicks now have that excuse to go partying on weekends (under the condition that they double their cardio on Monday). Both Stacie and Amy are sick of the Barden boys and are looking for more of a variety this weekend. Letting Cynthia Rose choose their venue is, unexpectedly, the best idea. Thank god Black Beauty is a music lover first and foremost. The club she brings them to isn’t as glittery and rainbow as Amy had first feared.

Beca has her radio station gig; Aubrey is, well, _Aubrey_ and Chloe is actually visiting her family this weekend. It’s up to Fat Amy to lead their little band of musical misfits. Oh right, Lilly bails on them because they’re not planning to do anything illegal enough for her (which is probably for the best).

With the bass thumping and the cheap, bland-tasting American beer buzzing through her system, Amy is rocking out on the dance floor. She’s totally empowered by her Curly Rainbow Snake tatt (bless Lilly and her rad skills). The amount of guys grinding against her is solid proof that her milkshake brings more boys to the yard than Stacie’s. Amy has more numbers stuffed down her bra than a full-time stripper.

“Hey, Amy,” Stacie yells out over the deafening music, “I’m going to go hunting!”

Amy smirks at her, wriggling her eyebrows, “Li’l guy hungry for some meat?”

Stacie winks, “You know it!” and stalks off into the crowd.

Without even needing to turn, Amy knows Cynthia Rose is watching Stacie’s swaying hips. But the angry huff that she manages to pick up on her right is definitely a surprise. Someone bumps her on the shoulder and almost runs off before Amy recognises her. Denise.

 _Oh_.

Amy catches Cynthia Rose glaring at Denise’s back before she mutters something about getting more drinks and disappears as well.

“Hey, get me something strong too!”

But Cynthia walks off without acknowledging Amy’s shout. Man, she did not sign up for all this lesbian drama when she first joined the Bellas. But if there’s one thing she has discovered about herself this year, is that her gaydar is a lot more accurate than the 1-in-10 bullshit. (Lesbihonest, everyone is a little gay.)

Whatever. She’s here to let loose and have some fun. She shouldn’t be wasting this much time worrying about her girls and their issues. And judging by how occupied the rest of the Bellas are, she needs to do some serious catching up. She’s already caught Stacie making out with three different guys. Denise is bumping and grinding with some blonde chick. Girl’s got game, all right. And is that Ashley and Jessica? Why are these two never like this at Bella practise? Amy merely shakes her head and throws herself back into the music.

By the time Amy spots Cynthia Rose again, she is hidden half in the shadows, sulking into her drink. She seems to be focused on Denise and her blonde dance partner. Ugh, drama, Amy rolls her eyes as she joins her by the wall.

“You should at least share that, don’t you reckon?” Amy steals her glass and takes a sip, “Wow, you’ve got great taste.” It turns out to be some expensive tasting scotch and Amy quickly downs the whole thing before Cynthia can snatch it back.

Cynthia rolls her eyes, “You need to stop being so surprised, girl.” She sighs, “Unfortunately, my taste in ladies... Not that great.”

Amy scrunches up her nose in confusion, “You mean the crushing on straight girls part or still liking your ex part?”

Cynthia shoots her a dirty look, dismissing Amy’s question with a flip of her red fringe. “I need another drink. You want me to get you one?” She asks instead.

It’s Amy’s turn to look offended, “Hell, yeah.” Alcohol over girl talk. Hands down.

“Be right back.”

Be right back turns out to be never coming back. But Amy has sorta forgotten about that when Ted, or Ned, or whatever, joins her on the dance floor. He’s hunky and tanned, with a curly mop of dirty blonde hair and sparkling smile that reminds her of the surfer boys back home. If she keeps kissing him, she could pretend he speaks with that annoyingly heavy strine she doesn’t realise she misses until now. She rushes them towards the bathroom, earning a knowing wink from Stacie.

They’re too busy trying to tear at each other’s clothes without breaking their kiss, they completely miss the fact that the bathroom is far from empty. It’s only when Amy trips a little that she notices the other couple. The two girls are making out so furiously, it’s not like they’ve noticed Amy either. Not even after that weird, high pitched mermaid giggle Amy lets out after nearly falling on her face. Oops.

Amy pulls on her bloke’s arm. They need to find another place. Stat. But he stays rooted on the spot, staring, and _drooling_ , at the spectacle (Amy suspects he has never seen lesbian porn before. She has but it’s not really her thing). She sighs. A slap probably wouldn’t be enough to get his attention back. She is about to turn around and throw her prize winning right hook at him before she leaves when a familiar flash of red catches her eyes.

Wait.

“Double whomp!” Amy screams out. “Ha! I knew it!”

Cynthia Rose and Denise break apart with a jolt. “ _Jesus_ , Amy!” Cynthia is clutching at her chest and looking less than impressed. Denise has gone bright red and tries her hardest not to meet Amy’s eyes.

“I think I just won twenty bucks!” Amy punches the air, triumphant.

“Are you done?”

Amy snorts, “Are you guys done being done?”

Denise’s head snaps up, surprised. Cynthia looks down at her shoes, shoulders tensed and her fringe hiding any hopeful expression on her face.

“Yeah...” a soft whisper escapes Denise and both Amy and Cynthia stare at her with disbelieving eyes. “Yeah, I think we’re done being done.” She affirms, more confidently.

The giant smile that breaks across Amy’s face rivals the one on Cynthia Rose. She seriously has no idea why _she_ is excited about this but hey, these two are adorable together. Maybe now Cynthia Rose will kick her gambling habit and focus more during Bella practice. Plus, no more lame-arse attempts at trying to distract herself with Stacie’s boobs. Totally a win-win.

With a loud cheer, Cynthia grabs Denise into her arms and spins her around. Once Denise is back safely on the ground, the two of them throw themselves into another heated round of pashing.

Amy simply stands there, watching them and smiling like a creepy idiot.

* * *

IV.

Wow. Judging by the roars, the crowd does frigging love Fat Amy. Ok fine, Beca's remix setlist is sorta cool too. But hey, who just brought down the house with her raw vocals? Mhmm, Fat Amy’s definitely taking some lucky person home tonight.

Aubrey flies by and plants a carelessly sloppy kiss on Amy's cheek. "We did it aca-bitches!" She screams out, floating on the high of their performance and subsequent win.

Everyone's a little crazy right now. Even without any celebratory champagne. Stacie’s already making out with that cute stagehand. Denise and Cynthia Rose are having their own private celebration, and no, Amy hasn’t been spying on them. But seeing Aubrey dancing around and hugging everyone is the best. Amy reckons carefree looks extra sexy on her. She's gonna go find Chloe so they could double team Aubrey and convince her to drink something stronger than the wussy alcopop she usually drinks.

"Alcopop?" Chloe looks at Amy as if she’s speaking in a foreign language.

Maybe she sorta is.

Amy sighs.  "You know," she waves her hands around, trying to find the right words. "Those tingly girly drinks that dudes hide roofies in."

Amy doesn’t get why all she gets is a horrified look from Chloe. She gets even more confused when Chloe quickly turns her face away. Did she say something wrong?

“How’re we feeling, awesome nerds?” Beca appears behind Amy, hair tousled and makeup smudged. The smile that Chloe has pasted on is far dimmer than her usual one, Amy’s surprised Beca doesn’t notice how fake it is.

“I still can’t believe we won.” Chloe sighs out, a little dazed.

“I know right? Come on, you two. Group hug!” Amy grabs both of them and gathers them into the largest bear hug she could muster. “Shalom!”

“Amy,” Beca exhales out a laugh, “I’m pretty sure that’s not what it means...”

It’s not a real word. It could mean whatever Amy wants it to. But she doesn’t say that out loud. She hip checks Beca instead, “Now I can add best a Capella singer in America to my never ending list of accomplishments.”

“Best a Capella singer in America. With teeth.” Chloe answers back with a wink.

On cue, the three of them bare their teeth in exaggerated grin. Next thing they know, they’re falling over each other laughing.

“I’m going to miss you guys so much,” Chloe whines, and this time it’s her that grabs them into a tight hug.

Amy’s the first to pull away and she catches the way Beca clutches at the lapels of Chloe’s blazer before they break apart. This girl seriously needs to take up her walkabout offer.

Chloe looks at both of them with a proud sparkle in her eyes, “We leave the Bellas in good hands.”

Beca does her bashful half shrug, “Well, we do have a pyromaniac and a dingo-crocodile wrestler.” Playing along, Amy flexes her guns while Beca considers her thoughtfully, “Yeah, I guess we’re good.”

“You girls are such dorks,” Chloe reaches over and ruffles Beca’s hair affectionately.

Before they could discuss their celebration plans (or for Amy to propose a pub crawl) they hear Aubrey calling for Chloe. She appears a beat later, hovering just outside the door of the green room they’re currently hanging out. “Come on, Chloe! The ICCA might be over but we still have work to do!”

Amy and Beca share a scared look, “There’s no way I’m jumping back into cardio any time soon. Not even for you, Aubrey.”

Chloe gives Amy’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “Don’t worry. It’s just co-captains business. We’re planning a celebration party.”

“Chloe!” Aubrey gasps, “Do you always have to ruin my surprises?” She huffs dramatically and marches off without waiting for her.

“Bree, you can’t possibly still be mad about the Boone’s Farm thing?”

“It was a Bella secret! Passed down from captain to captain.” Aubrey calls back, voice echoing in the hallways. “For everyone else, it _is_ the blood of her Bella sisters. And you just have to tell...” Aubrey’s voice fades away but Amy’s pretty sure she’s still mumbling to herself (probably while wearing the same appalled look she shot Amy when she ripped her blouse open during their Regionals).

Chloe laughs and tells them she better go help Aubrey, offering them a quick wave before running off. Amy catches Beca staring dumbly after her. The way she gnaws at her lips makes her appear more sad and lost, even with the angry dark lines drawn around her eyes. Sometimes, Amy thinks Beca could be such an idiot.

Amy lets out a noisy exhale, “Let's address the maroon elephant in the room first, shall we?"

"Elephant?"

"I didn't realise you seriously had a toner for Jesse."

Beca splutters, all flustered, "What? No, that's not a thing!"

"You movie-kissed him. Like teenage cliché movie-kissed him."

"Yeah, so? I mean, that's how it goes right?"

"What'd you mean?"

Beca kicks at the floor, looking sheepish and shy at the same time, “I... don’t know how to - I don’t know what I’m doing. Like, I don’t know what to do with relationships. My dad isn’t that great a-”

“Stop right there, Becks.” Amy ignores the annoyed glare Beca throws at her, “I may not know your dad but you need to stop blaming your problems on him.” Amy’s her spirit guide, she reserves the right to drop a few nasty truth bombs.

“Look, Beca,” Amy quickly cuts in before Beca can shut down and run away, “You’re a really cool chick and I love you more than meat pies. But - borrowing Aubrey’s sick words here - you really need to get your head out of that arse hat you have on.”

Beca gaps at her, eyes flashing with indignation, “Dude, was that necessary?”

Amy puts up her hands, "All I'm trying to say is that you've gotta get off your lazy arse and do some things yourself, instead of whining about it or blaming your dad."

"If it's that easy, then what'd you suggest I do, O Wise One?" Beca backs away from Amy and crosses her arms.

Amy ignores the bite in her tone. She moves to sit in one of the couches littered around the room, "Do you still get lost if you have a map?"

"What?" Beca looks at her. The eyeliner around her eyes gives her a look more hostile than her tone.

"I still got lost in the bush, even if I had maps, GPS, stars. There's no handy _Guide to Everything for Dummies_ , Beca. Even if there is, nothing will always turn out the way you think they would. I mean, I joined the Bellas on a whim and look where I am now?"

Beca stays quiet, mulling over Amy's words.

"At least you're hanging out with us a lot more." Amy pats at the space next to her, "Acknowledging people that care about you. That's a good start."

Beca hesitates a little before plopping down beside her with a soft _oomph_ , "When I said I didn't have many friends that are girls. I actually meant I didn't have many friends."

"We know." Amy bumps her shoulder, "But you've got the Bellas now."

Beca gives her a small, appreciative smile while bumping her back, "Yeah, you guys got me too." Then she sighs, sobering up, "Amy... what should I do?"

Amy has a feeling that they're not talking about the friends stuff anymore, but for once, she hasn’t figured out exactly what to say. Staring into the empty green room, she fiddles with the Bella scarf still tied around her wrist. The silence that settled over them wasn't exactly the most comfortable but Beca stays quiet. Waiting. Or just as lost in her thoughts too.

"Be honest with yourself." Amy finally says, shrugging a bit helplessly, "That's all I have for you, young grasshopper."

"What if-"

"You're getting ahead of yourself there."

"Sorry."

"Come on, Beca," Amy turns to her, eyes determined, "Let’s go on a walkabout. Get out of your safe zone and do some serious adventuring."

"Maybe... we all should." Beca holds her stare, her usual charmingly arrogant smirk starting to appear on the corner of her lips, "How does a Bella Roadtrip sound?"

"Is that the American version of a walkabout?"

"Yeah..." Beca bites her lips, genuinely considering the question, "Pretty much, I guess."

"Then it's set! Let me run it by Captain Aubrey."

Amy stands, dusting off her pants. She makes it to the doorway before turning around. Beca is still on the couch. Her brows furrowed, looking more like she's contemplating the big questions of life. Maybe in a way she is. Not that Amy would ever know what goes on in her head. Beats or teen angst or something.

"Hey, Beca."

"Yeah?"

"Please do something about your toner for Chloe?" Amy walks off, chuckling to herself as she hears Beca splutter. But there is no denial ringing out. Totally a good sign, right?

Sometimes, people pick the easier road. The boring but predictable one. Amy gets it. Even with Songlines, walkabouts are hard and she still got lost a few times. So yeah, she gets the security of age old formulas and paved paths. But that’s not challenging at all. No one ever finds or sees anything interesting this way.

* * *

V.

Remember last year's singing telegrams fundraiser? Well, Cynthia Rose and Beca have decided that it should keep going. Which means, once again, Amy's (growing) bikini collection won't be put on display. Ok, fine, the singing telegrams did raise quite a fair amount. But Amy's still adamant that they would have raised a hell lot more if they did a bikini car wash.

"I'm not sure all of us have bikini-ready bodies," Ashley reminds them when Amy brings it back up again.

Amy pats her on the back, "Don’t be such a bludger. You’ve gotta take those cardio tips more seriously." She pretends she didn't see the glares and eye rolls the Bellas are all giving her, turning to Stacie instead, "But why waste perfectly good bikini waxes, right?"

“I’ve had to give a guy a bikini wax once." Lilly mumbles. Amy manages to pick up it up only because she's standing right next to her. You'd assume beatboxing on stage in front of thousands would have encouraged Lilly to speak up more often. She continues just as faintly, “I had to do that before tattooing him.”

Amy shudders at the thought.

Beca claps her hand, “All right, guys. Does anyone else have a better fundraising idea or should we just stick with this?”

Most of them just shrug and go back to chattering among themselves.

“Why didn’t Chloe mention how hard this is?” Beca runs her hand through her hair in exasperation, groaning to herself, “Man, I was such a dick to Aubrey.”

Cynthia Rose’s voice cuts through, “Let’s be real, it worked pretty well last year.” Amy watches smugly at the way Cynthia couldn’t really hold back her little dreamy smile. Denise shuffles a little closer, pretty much wearing the same expression. “What?” Cynthia stammers a little when she catches Amy staring. Amy just shakes her head and goes back to badgering Beca. (She eventually relents and agrees to a Bella Beach Day instead).

Amy finds it oddly funny that one of the Bellas (nobody’s actually sure who) was inspired enough by Cynthia Rose and paid her teammates a full _twenty_ to go serenade someone for her. And that special someone happens to be a Treble. When Beca and Cynthia Rose were voted as their new captains, they've done away with the ridiculous "No Treble Boning" rule. (Thank god.) Cross aca-pollution, or whatever Aubrey calls it, is kinda like a common thing now.

This year, Amy's paired with Beca again. Not that she minds. She just takes it as a sign that they're destined to be a team. The walkabout/roadtrip thing over the summer was a success, if Amy may say so herself. Dr Mitchell was so excited about the idea of Beca taking initiative with team building exercises, he practically funded half the roadtrip, including the awesome party bus rental. (The overly enthusiastic way he now greets them when they bump into him on campus is a tiny price to pay for being able to use his massive house on most weekends.)

Beca's still a little prickly but she's doing a lot better around Amy. Amy is proud that she’s got the rare privilege of calling herself a close friend of Beca’s, but that doesn’t stop her from dreading the visit to Treblemaker's shared house. If Amy’s a good and responsible friend, she should be bringing that up with Beca now and maybe switching her partner before it's too late, right?

"Hey, Beca." Amy finally speaks up when they’re walking up the grassy path towards the house. In her books, it’s not technically too late unless they’re in the door.

"What's up?" Beca hasn't looked up from the card she's supposed to be delivering.

Neither of them has figured out which Bella commissioned them to sing to Unicycle. The fact that Beca's even more frustrated about this than she is amuses Amy to no end. In fact, she's even more into this than Cynthia Rose, who has laid down a fifteen on Jessica. Amy has her money on one of their more impressionable newbies. Weirdly, both Aubrey and Chloe placed their bets on Lilly. (The Bellas were actually expecting Aubrey to be routinely checking up on them, especially after getting rid of the No Trebles rule; and Amy's caught enough Skype convos to know that Beca keeps Chloe just as informed).

"Um, Becks... You ok with doing this?"

Beca raises one of her eyebrows but doesn’t look up, "What do you- Oh, right. Jesse."

"Yeah."

"I'm fine.” Beca busies herself with putting the card back but doesn’t meet Amy’s eyes. “I mean, we haven't spoken in a while but... I'm OK."

Amy doesn't buy it. Not when Beca’s playing with her ear spikes like that. "You sure?"

Beca bristles, "Yes, Amy. Sure, it sucks we're not exactly friends anymore." Not bothering to hide her frustration anymore, she shoves her hands into her pockets and quickens her pace. "But like you said, ‘pash and dash’ is kind of rude, and my girl crush confession after that is like kicking him while he’s down. So I get why he might hate me a lit-” She freezes, causing Amy to crash into her back. "Oh my god. Is this what you get if you win the ICCA six times?”

Amy moves past Beca and stares up at what looks more like a holiday cabin than a college sharehouse. Even back in Tasmania, college dorms are never this fancy. Her eyes are (naturally) drawn to the large red BTM nailed to the wooden walls. Geez, this place is as huge and obnoxious as Bumper. Did he designed this place?

Beca nods slowly, “Probably. Ugh, I bet this place still reeks of him.”

Baffled, Amy whips her head around, “Since when can you read my mind?”

“You said that out loud, Amy.” Beca snorts.

“Oh...” Amy deflates. Bummer. Looks like she can’t telepathically bug Beca to get her a hotdog. “Alrighty then. No more dawdling, we’ve got a singing telegram to deliver!”

Amy yanks on Beca’s arm and drags her through the front door. It’s not like she’s never been to a bachelor pad before but these are the Trebles. They’re a long way down the road from fratboys and jocks. What can she expect inside anyway? Something like a dirty pile of clothes, music sheets covering everything else, TV showing American Idol, a foosball table?

Well. Definitely not this.

“Wow,” Beca’s standing on her tiptoes, trying to peer past Amy’s shoulders. “They’ve got a fucking hot tub in here.”

Amy wolf whistles, “This is just like the gay porno I watched last night. Smokin’ hot.” As hot as half naked Treblemakers, all tightly squished into a small tub, can get.

“This sort of reminds me of that time when Chloe burst into my shower.” Beca muses to herself while shaking her head at the sight before her.

“Wait, what? Chloe saw your lady junk? When?”

Beca pales, “W-what? I didn’t say anything.”

Nice try. After hanging out for this long _and_ roadtripping together, it doesn’t take a genius to work out that when Beca’s picking at her wristbands, she’s probably nervous or hiding something. Amy narrows her eyes at Beca, who steadfastly refuses to elaborate. She’s about to use the interrogation method she picked up during a brief stint at ASIO when the Trebles start hollering at her.

“Yo, Fat Amy!”

“Woooo! Fat Amy’s in the house! Come join us!” That cute one with the blonde tips shoves Benji out of the tub, “We’ve got plenty of room.”

Amy saunters over, accepting a drink from another Treble. She settles on the edge of the tub and dips her feet in. “What are you dirtbags watching? _Hot Tub Time Machine_?”

Erm... Maybe...not.

She frowns at the two girls onscreen, swiping their feather dusters impassively, “If you lot are trying to take sex tape pointers from that lame show, you might as well ask me.”

Jesse laughs a little nervously, “What? No, Fat Amy, we’re not-”

“No need to be shy! Sex tapes are exciting stuff. You know, I filmed one with Hugh Jackman a few years ago. Got a Golden Globe for that.” When all Amy gets is bemused looks, she pushes up her boobs. “These ladies won best supporting.”

The Trebles are stunned to silence. A few of them drop their gaze down, as if trying to gauge the legitimacy of her claims. But under their untrained eyes, Amy doubts they’ll truly appreciate her magnificent twins.

“Yikes.”

She hears Beca choking back her laughter behind her but she continues on, unfazed. “Look, I’ve got extensive experience. I can direct _and_ film your sex tape for you. Plus, we’re mates so I won’t even charge you much.” She turns back to Beca, trying to work it out in her head, “I’m bloody useless at math but a 10% direction and production fee from the profits made isn’t much, right?”

One of the guys sitting closest to Amy reaches out and shakes her hand eagerly, “Dude, yeah! This sounds like a great idea. We can even call it _Trebles in Paradise_.”

“No way, we should call it _T-boning_. Bam!” The others begin to shout over each other, waving their hands around and splashing the water out of the tub.

“Guys, stop. No, we’re not filming-” No one hears Jesse’s protests when half the Trebles starts asking Amy about everything; from best camera angles, lighting, to casting.

Beca sniggers, “We’ll let you guys get on with your porno project _after_ we serenade Unicycle.”

Oh, right. Amy’s completely forgotten about that. “I’ll take lead.” She whispers to Beca when they regroup, “This song needs fat power and you’re much too skinny for this. No offence.”

Beca heaves a long suffering sigh, but the little smirk she wears when she starts the backing beats lets Amy know that she doesn’t mind at all. Amy turns to face Unicycle and squares her stance. Without Lilly beatboxing, Amy’s gotta make do with Beca and her stomp-clap addition to the backing vocals. Right on cue, Amy gives her belly a resounding slap and launches into the first verse.

_I let it fall, my heart._

_And as it fell you rose to claim it_

_It was dark and I was over_

_Until you kissed my lips and you saved me..._

On the final _Let it burn_ , Amy lets loose a vocal run she’s sure Aubrey would be dancing around in approval of. And judging by the roars and applauses coming from their long term rivals, Amy has definitely-

“Crushed it.” Beca and Amy say in unison, high fiving each other.

The girls make it halfway to the doors when something suddenly clicks in her head. Spinning around, Amy takes in the hot tub scene again. Ten grown men, sharing that tiny tub. Some of their hand placements _are_ a little suspicious. (Please, Amy’s not imagining anything when half of them did seem interested about the sex tape idea.) How has she not noticed this before?

“Hey, Jesse?” She calls out. “Were you Beca’s beard or was she yours?”

“Oh my god, Amy!”

* * *

1.

If there's anything new Amy discovered about herself during the past two years, it's that she's super competitive. Super competitive _to a fault_. Which means, she's bound to get herself into some trouble one of these days. And...maybe that day is happening sooner than expected.

What can she say? The Bellas just won the ICCA for the second time in a row and Amy's feeling pretty damn invincible. She's not gonna let anyone bring her down. Especially not Bumper.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Amy looks at Bumper with suspicion. He’d been loitering around the backstage area during the finals and now he's hanging too close to the Bellas at the (unofficial) Aca-after-party.

Bumper takes his sweet time sipping his drink before he even looks at her, "Nothing. Just watching the once glorious Trebles disintegrate into lousy, embarrassing failures. See, without me, they're literally _nothing_."

Right.

As much as Amy likes to gloat about the Bellas' double victories, she's not interested in indirectly feeding his giant ego in any way. Tonight is her night and the last thing she wants to do is waste it on him. Amy rolls her eyes at him before moving to rejoin Stacie and Lilly on the far end (near the table with the cupcakes).

"Besides," Bumper's nasal voice drawls out, "Aca-bitches can't get enough of me. Always asking for more."

Amy snorts, "Ok. So, a former ICCA winner hangs around the college kids because that's the only way he can relive his most glorious moments. Hmm, does this sound familiar to you?"

He mumbles into his cup, "Uh, no. Not at all. Oh look, here comes someone who wants all up on this." Bumper smirks at a tall brunette girl that's making her way towards them. "Getting it."

The girl saunters in front of the two and gives them both a smile.

"I would destroy her and she'd be begging me for seconds," Bumper stage whispers to Amy.

"You mean, you'd be begging her to sleep with you, like some cheap prostitute with herpes."

"She wants my high D," He sings on pitch, "You'll see."

The stranger speaks up, "Hey, you’re Amy, right?" Amy chokes down her smug laugh at the sight of Bumper’s red face before nodding at the girl. "Um, Aubrey asked me to give you this." Once she hands over the card to Amy, she walks off without giving Bumper a second glance.

"She wants the elusive D all right," Amy slaps him on his arm.

Bumper slaps back, deliberately missing her arm and hitting her boobs, "She's just playing hard to get."

"Uh no. Looks like your pitch pipe is playing hard to blow tonight. I, on the other hand, would have no problems getting any action down under." Amy waves Bumper off dismissively while she reads Aubrey's note. Aubrey’s got them into an exclusive club just for tonight and Amy has two hours to kill before she has to meet up with the Bellas. Plenty of time for some fun.

"Somehow, I find it hard to believe you get more action that I do. And believe me, I get plenty."

She shoots him a sardonic smile. There is no way in hell Bumper’s getting any action from anyone (other than his own hands), "Oh, you have no idea how many guys are falling all over themselves for a piece of the Amy cake. In fact, they'd do _anything_ for it."

"Anything? Yeah, right. I bet that you wouldn't be able to handle any of this Treble."

"Well,” Amy turns around to fully face him, “I bet that when I'm done with you, you wouldn't even have lasted ten seconds."

"50." Bumper pulls a crisp bill out of his wallet and waves it in front of her nose, "Bet you wouldn't be able to peg me."

"Really? You really want to do this? Ok, fine." She pulls out her own fifty, "I bet I'll make you go down like a two dollar prostitute."

* * *

2.

Ok, maybe this isn't the smartest idea Amy ever had. But the two 50 dollar bills sitting on the bedside table is calling out to her. Maybe it also isn't the smartest idea to make the hotel room she shares with Beca the place where she avenges last year's burrito hit. Amy's not really sure if she should blame her competitiveness or her pride for landing her in this situation. Ugh, either way, she better win this bet. Otherwise, all these sacrifices and trampling of her dignity would be for naught.

"You ready for this?" Amy calls out to Bumper from behind. "I'm not sure if this is enough lube... Back in Australia, we always have enough grease lying around. Just in case."

Bumper scratches at his left shoulder, "That's my last tube. Unless you’ve got more in your bag. I mean, you’re the one that came prepared with a dildo."

"Well, this sucks." Amy sighs and throws the room service menu across the room, "They don't have any sausage rolls here."

Bumper spins around to face her, his face panicked, "Don't worry about it. I think I can take it. No need to bust out those sausage rolls."

"Wait, what?" Amy shoots him a bemused look while she continues to prep her strap-on, "I get hungry after sex. What the hell are you talking about?"

Bumper heaves out a relieved sigh, "Nothing. Just... get on with it."

"Right. Ok then, here goes." Amy carefully slides her strap-on in. Funny enough, there is much less resistance than she expected. She stares at him in disbelief, "Um, that was...easy?"

Bumper snorts, barely affected by the intrusion, "Well, there's a reason I think having sex with a great white shark is easier."

“What do you mean?” Amy hit the start button on stopwatch on her phone and chucks it onto the table, next to their prize money. (Bumper’s been yakking on about how he’ll last a full twenty. But, honestly, Amy thinks going past five minutes would be pushing it for him.)

“Serious question though,” Bumper turns around to face her, “Who do you think is easier to have sex with: Captain America or a great white shark?”

“Um, obviously Capt.” She breathes out as she starts up with shallow thrusts, easy and slow, “Bet his penis is huge.”

“But he’s technically still a virgin from the 40’s,” Bumper matches her rhythm, unfazed, “He’s gonna be so awkward in bed.” On her next thrust, he suddenly pushes back against her, “Look, you’ve gotta do more than that if you’re planning to beat me at this.”

“Fine,” She grunts out, annoyed. “Do you always talk this much?”

Not giving him a chance to answer, Amy gives a particular deep thrust, bottoming out. “Still a magic science penis though. It’s probably hard like his shield.” She grunts out, picking up the conversation again. Seriously, this is _quite_ a fascinating topic.

“That-” Bumper breaks out a groan when Amy picks up the pace, “That’s exactly why I wouldn’t want to have sex with Steve Rogers. Can you imagine the pain?”

“But, sharks don’t have hands.” Amy blurts out distractedly.

Bumper makes an incoherent noise that vaguely sounds like “So?”

“They can’t give a wraparound,” She pants out, feeling herself tiring a little. Such vigorous activity after the competition really isn’t the best idea.

It’s been four minutes in and Amy’s really got to up the ante (by a _lot_ ) soon if she’s gonna win the bet. She needs to get angry for this to make sure he blows around the five minute mark. Lucky for her, she’s got an angry version of spank bank material to fuel her hate fire.

Amy speeds up the rhythms and starts rotating her hips in tight circles. The increasingly loud and frequent groans from Bumper sound like a good sign. So she concentrates on that: simple, repetitive moments, speeding up, then slowing down.

She sorta lost track of time, with only the slaps of sweaty skin and incoherent (was that singing?) noises that tumble out of Bumper to keep her company. Consider this taking one for the team, Amy reminds herself, as she pushes on.

Suddenly, she feels it. A heavy shudder running through Bumper’s body and a high keening that everyone on this floor of the hotel probably wouldn’t have missed.

“Oh, my god!”

Amy has no idea that Bumper’s would voice turn a hell lot more feminine than when he’s pulling his falsettos.

“Dude, what the fuck? Amy!”

_Oh wait._

At that very moment, Bumper releases a low, rumbling scream as he climaxes.

And right when the stopwatch display flickered to nine minutes.

“No. You don’t. Ever, _ever._ Sleep with a Treble!” Aubrey is still yelling at her (and she’s still half naked but at least she’s not inside of Bumper anymore). “Ever!”

“He’s an _ex_ -Treble though,” Chloe tries to hold her best friend back from attacking Amy, or Bumper. Or both.

Beca just laughs, thoroughly enjoying herself, “Amy, would you call this horizontal... three-legged race?”

The fact that Amy and Bumper did it on her bed probably hasn’t registered yet. So Amy just nods along, trying not to draw attention to that fact.

“Ugh, see, this is what happens when you get rid of the oath!” Aubrey’s rounding on Beca now, giving Amy the chance to get dressed again. Chloe’s the only one nice enough to have picked up her clothes for her. “This is why some irresponsible alt girl shouldn’t be the captain. Look what you’ve done, _Beca_.”

“Well,” When she looks presentable enough, Amy tentatively speaks up again. “In both our defences, I penetrated Bumper and made him my bitch. So... I’d consider this a Bella win?”

Aubrey’s face scrunches into that part confused and exasperated look she reserves specifically for when she doesn't quite know what to do with Amy. The other two girls are looking at the aftermath of Bumper (fast asleep and snoring) with a mildly impressed look.

“Wow,” Beca nudges her shoulder, “You completely finished him.”

“Faster than a cheesecake.” She smirks back.

* * *

3.

A short while and a much needed hot shower later, the four of them are making their way to the nightclub. They’ve unanimously agreed to kick Bumper, rather unceremoniously (read: half naked), out of their room before calling the reception for some clean bed sheets. The hotel staff didn’t sound too surprised, and considering tonight is the finals of the ICCA, they’re probably expecting stuff like this kinda stuff to happen.

(Or maybe they’re super professional and Amy should leave a tip when she checks out tomorrow. Is that how it works in the States?)

Aubrey, leading their little pack, reaches out and links her arm with Amy’s. Amy has a slight suspicion that Beca and Chloe are doing the same behind them.

“I’ve missed the Bellas, you know?” Aubrey sighs out, not bothering to hide her nostalgia from Amy.

Amy doesn’t really like sad Aubrey and tonight she’s expecting fun Aubrey. So she beams, wide enough for both of them, “You mean, you miss my awesome mermaid dancing?”

A small smile tugs at Aubrey’s lips, “Yeah, definitely. I miss having your weirdness around. You know, I tried that orthodox Jew ponytail the other day.”

“What, with the sperm and all?”

“No, Amy,” Aubrey chokes out through a laugh, “I couldn’t find any.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix your hair for you next time. I mean, now that I’ve got a fresh supply of sperm.”

“Amy!”

They hold onto each other tight as they wobble around, chortling. Amy spies Beca shooting them a bemused look (that ends up looking more judgmental), complete with her eyebrows so high, they’ve almost disappeared into her sidebangs.

Amy sobers up a little, finally asking Aubrey the question that’s been on her mind for a while now, “So you're finally OK with Becks?”

Aubrey snorts, “I'll start considering that if she has the guts to ask Chloe out.”

“What? She still hasn't?” Wow, Amy’s more than disappointed right now. So much for their team-bonding roadtrip-walkabout last summer, “I thought they've been going at it like kangaroos on heat, since, like, last year.”

“Gross!” Aubrey gags, “Ugh. I _so_ did not need to have that image in my head, Amy. I've only just gotten my gag reflex under control.” She whirls around and jabs a finger at Beca “If I throw up at any time tonight, it'd be _all_ your fault.”

Looking completely and appropriately bewildered, Beca can only flail, “What the fuck did I do?”

Before Beca can get any explanation, Amy spots the bright flashing sign of the nightclub and runs off towards it with Aubrey in tow. She could see the rest of the Bellas waiting for them, just outside the VIP door. They all rush forward, crowding around Amy, smirking and giving her knowing looks.

Cynthia Rose claps her on the back, “We heard what you did, girl.” Her voice filled with pride.

“Crushed it.” Lilly fistpumps.

It comes as no surprise when the first thing that came out of Stacie’s mouth was detailed questions of her complete domination of Bumper. Well, Amy’s got all night and a very interested audience. Don’t mind her while she retells her heroic tale over a nice schooner of beer.

Amy pulls the two hard-earned fifty dollar bills out of her cleavage, "Guys, first round of drinks is on me tonight!"

Half the Bellas settle around the back table while the other half (lily-livered lightweights) escapes onto the dance floor. Listening to the laughter and banter going around her, Amy actually feels like she’s home for once. Even back in Tasmania, all she remembers about home was her restless energy and the feeling that she doesn’t quite belong. Here, she’s surrounded by people that truly appreciates her and makes her feel - well, to be a complete sap - _loved_. Perhaps she did find the answers she wanted on this Great American Walkabout. Perhaps, she found something better...

But being part of the Barden Bellas is less of a self-discovery journey than Amy expected. Instead she’s also discovered something more (private) about her fellow Bellas. Seeing them all in really weird circumstances makes her feel all queasy and intrusive, but she’s sorta glad she did (ew, not for that reason, perve. Besides, she was caught herself so that makes them even).

Who knew those twig bitches could be so three dimensional and so full of something warm? Amy is infinitely glad to know that they’ve got some fat hearts under all that skin and bones.

(Also she should probably do less pirate dancing to stop getting blindsided by these crazy chicks.)


End file.
